Ragged Dick, Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks eBook

“I aint much used to writin’ letters.
As this is the first one I ever wrote, I hope you’ll
excuse the mistakes. I hope you’ll write
to me again soon. I can’t write so good
a letter as you; but, I’ll do my best, as the
man said when he was asked if he could swim over to
Brooklyn backwards. Good-by, Frank. Thank
you for all your kindness. Direct your next letter
to No. —­ Mott Street.

“Your true friend,
“DickHunter.”

When Dick had written the last word, he leaned back
in his chair, and surveyed the letter with much satisfaction.

“I didn’t think I could have wrote such
a long letter, Fosdick,” said he.

“Written would be more grammatical, Dick,”
suggested his friend.

“I guess there’s plenty of mistakes in
it,” said Dick. “Just look at it,
and see.”

Fosdick took the letter, and read it over carefully.

“Yes, there are some mistakes,” he said;
“but it sounds so much like you that I think
it would be better to let it go just as it is.
It will be more likely to remind Frank of what you
were when he first saw you.”

“Is it good enough to send?” asked Dick,
anxiously.

“Yes; it seems to me to be quite a good letter.
It is written just as you talk. Nobody but you
could have written such a letter, Dick. I think
Frank will be amused at your proposal to come up there
as teacher.”

“P’r’aps it would be a good idea
for us to open a seleck school here in Mott Street,”
said Dick, humorously. “We could call it
’Professor Fosdick and Hunter’s Mott Street
Seminary.’ Boot-blackin’ taught by
Professor Hunter.”

The evening was so far advanced that Dick decided
to postpone copying his letter till the next evening.
By this time he had come to have a very fair handwriting,
so that when the letter was complete it really looked
quite creditable, and no one would have suspected
that it was Dick’s first attempt in this line.
Our hero surveyed it with no little complacency.
In fact, he felt rather proud of it, since it reminded
him of the great progress he had made. He carried
it down to the post-office, and deposited it with
his own hands in the proper box. Just on the steps
of the building, as he was coming out, he met Johnny
Nolan, who had been sent on an errand to Wall Street
by some gentleman, and was just returning.